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Chapter Text

Narancia was confused. This was a common occurrence, as Fugo often pointed out. But this was like, way more confusion than he normally had. 

Ever since he had seen Mista and Giorno… at that bench… well. He had been thinking a lot. A lot. Giorno… he was so young . 15! A whole 2 years younger than Narancia! And Mista was older than Narancia. So that meant he was way older than Giorno! It seemed weird.

Narancia pushed his fork around his plate as he meditated, deep in thought. Risotto spilled over the sides of his plate, earning him a pinch from Fugo. Hm. Fugo. He was pretty smart. He probably could fix this problem.

“Hey, Fugo…” Naracia glanced upwards at Fugo from where he was slouching.

“What is it, Narancia?” Fugo questioned with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve hardly touched your risotto, you know.”

“Yeah I know. But I was thinking—” Fugo snorted— “Fuck you, it’s true. I was thinking… if I wanted to… you know …” here Narancia wiggled his eyebrows while staring at Fugo to get the point across. Fugo blushed. “But the person was uh… a different age than me… would that be okay?” 

Fugo gulped. “Well, the age of consent in Italia is 14, so uh… it would be legal. But you should only do it if you really want to!! Don’t feel pressured, okay? And… nevermind.” Fugo was blushing hard now. “Anyways, what’s the age difference between you and this person ?”

Narancia thought for a second. “3 years. They’re 20, but—”

“What the fuck, Narancia?!” A knife trembled in the wood table from where Fugo had stabbed it in.

Narancia pouted. “What? Is it wrong or not, Fugo? I’m relying on you here.”

“It’s wrong. You—” Fugo glared at the table. “You should not be doing it with someone so much older than you. Who the fuck are you talking about, anyways?” The fork still in Fugo’s hand had started bending, with the strength he was inflicting on it. 

“No one you would know. It doesn’t matter, anyways. I don’t really want to do it.” Narancia stuttered through the lie. Fugo was so confusing when he was angry. Why the fuck was he even angry?

“I don’t know them?! ” At this, Fugo stood up abruptly, his chair falling down with a clatter. “Narancia, where did you meet this person?”

“Uh… Bathroom!” And with that, Narancia took off.

—

Fugo stood deep in thought, his fists shaking with the effort to not bring out Purple Haze. Narancia… Narancia was too innocent for this. How dare anyone proposition him! And in a fucking bathroom, no less! 

This… this called for a slow death. Torture, at the very least.

—

Narancia had decided to be Giorno’s covert bodyguard. In order to protect him from the malicious advances of Mista. That Mista… Narancia really thought he knew the guy. But if Fugo said a three-year age gap was wrong, then it was wrong! Narancia, as Giorno’s elder, would protect his youth and chastity! 

Even if doing so was insanely scary.

As if to prove the point, Giorno blinked at him, breaking the 2 minutes he had been staring at Narancia non-stop . He paused, before speaking carefully, “Narancia, my friend. Are you feeling alright? Is there something weighing on your mind?”

‘Giorno… the things I do for you…’ Narancia thought with a shiver. Giorno could be so intimidating at times!

“Hey, Giorno! Narancia!” ‘Apparently not intimidating enough.’ Narancia frowned as Mista jogged over. Giorno stared a bit longer at Narancia before turning and smiling at Mista. “What’s up? What’cha eating?”

Giorno’s smile softened as he glanced away from Mista. “I’m just indulging in some pudding, Mista. Narancia is having some Cola.”

“Nice, nice.” Mista’s head bobbed as he nodded vigorously. “Anyways, Buccellati told me to tell you guys that this guy, Carbonara, that works in a different squad than ours told him that Carbonara’s Capo was ordered by the Boss to follow some girl, Cacciatorini, that apparently works sometimes with members of the Execution Squad.”

“Did Buccellati recommend changing our plans in light of this information?” Giorno questioned, his smile having been replaced by a focused expression.

“No, he just thought we should make sure to remember it.” 

Giorno nodded, his eyes unfocusing as he sat deep in thought. 

Naracia, personally, wasn’t paying attention to the information. He was busy scrutinizing Mista and Giorno’s interaction. Mista didn’t seem the type to be forcing some kind of bad relationship onto Giorno, but Narancia was still suspicious.

—

As Narancia leaned more into his new role as Giorno’s bodyguard, Giorno seemed to be hanging out more and more with Mista. It was becoming nigh-impossible to successfully protect Giorno.

At first, he kept just whining about how hungry he was in order to get Buccellati to have their whole group confined to a restaurant. But then Giorno had one of his private conversations with Buccellati that always got Abbacchio fuming and lo and behold, the next time Narancia whined about being oh-so hungry, Buccellati simply had Fugo escort Narancia to a restaurant, just the two of them. 

That was a whole different problem, because Fugo had also been acting weird. Ever since Narancia used his knowledge to figure out if a 3-year age gap was acceptable, Fugo had been incredibly pissy. 

And! Now, whenever Narancia went to the bathroom, Fugo also went! Not to even go pee either, just to hang around. It was so infuriating! And whenever Buccellati started doing his obvious lovesick staring thing at an annoyingly oblivious Abbacchio, Fugo would just glower . 

“Narancia, if you aren’t going to pay attention, then I’m not gonna fucking teach you.” Fugo was now glaring at Narancia, who simply smiled. At least Fugo’s infuriation at Narancia’s low level of education would never change. “What the fuck are you even smiling at? You suck ass at multiplication.”

“I was just thinking that you’ve been acting kinda weird lately,” Narancia muttered. Fugo froze, his pen slipping from his grasp. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you keep going into bathrooms with me—” Narancia was cut off with a sharp whistle.

Mista appeared over Narancia’s chair with a smirk. “Get a room, you guys!”

At first Narancia was going to laugh. He and Mista had similar humor, after all. But then he remembered that Mista was being a horrible person at the moment and he didn’t feel like laughing anymore. Fugo picked up his pen angrily. 

“Anyways,” Mista carried on with a smile, “Buccellati says it's time to regroup! Come on, come on,” he sang while shooing Narancia and Fugo out of their chairs. Narancia grabbed his plate of ravioli and hurried out of the restaurant before any waiters yelled at him for stealing nice ceramic plates. 

Mista walked ahead of Fugo and Narancia, whistling a random tune. Narancia glared at his back.

“Narancia—” Narancia turned at Fugo’s tone. Fugo crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at the ground, not slowing down as he walked next to Narancia.

Fugo’s brows were creased as he clearly struggled to get words out. It was pretty cute, in a very friendly way. “Narancia. What’s wrong.” Narancia paused as he took in Fugo’s non-question. 

Had Fugo also seen something like Narancia did? “Eh, what do you mean?” Fugo was a pretty intellectual guy, so it would probably be helpful to have him on the Giorno protection squad. 

“I…” Fugo paused again. “I want you to know that you can tell me anything. And that—that I’ll help you, okay?” Fugo’s eyes bore into Narancia’s. 

“Do you think Giorno’s okay?”

“Why the fuck are you talking about Giorno right now?! I’m—” Fugo cut himself off again, rubbing his hand over his face. “You can tell me his—or her—name, you know. And I’ll deal with them. I don’t care if takes Purple Haze, I’ll fucking do it!”

Narancia was secretly very pleased about how calm Fugo was acting. But more than that, he was very confused. Ah… why did Narancia have to live in such a perpetual state…

“Eh, Fugo… I really don’t know who you’re talking about… Is there someone I should keep an eye out for?” Narancia glanced around, but everyone seemed pretty normal to him. No weird clothes or hairstyles—unless you counted that one guy in what looked like a suit inspired by mold. But that wasn’t too weird, right?

Rapid shaking pulled Narancia out of his thoughts, Fugo’s furious face leaning over him. “God fucking dammit Narancia, the guy who propositioned you in the bathroom!! Mother of Christ, what was his name?!”

Oh. “Fugo, you’re making people stare, you know. And after all our hard work blending in, too! But ah… you don’t have to worry about that guy! He’s not around.” Narancia was a little embarrassed that it seemed like Fugo really hated 3 year age gaps so much that he was planning on killing anyone interested in one.

Fugo on the other hand was nodding to himself—probably angry that the ‘bathroom’ guy was so far away from him. 

But back to the real issue! “Anyways, talking about Giorno again, I really am worried about him and Mista!”

Fugo whipped his head back to Narancia. “What about them?”

“Well, isn’t it weird that they’re… you know.”

Narancia tapped his feet, switching his hold on his plate of ravioli as Fugo stared long and hard at him. Fugo’s eyes suddenly widened, and he seemed to take some kind of psychic damage as he bent over, resting his head between his knees before standing back up.

“Nothing is happening between them, you dumbass! What the hell!” Fugo rubbed his temples, breathing harshly. “I’m not fucking worried about them . I’m worried about you! ” 

Narnacia was still, staring at Fugo. This was really weird. Fugo never said anything caring towards Narancia. 

“I don’t care about them like I care about you. Narancia, you have to know this by now! You have to have realized! That you’re the one I want to protect! That—that you’re the one I care about, more than all the world!” Fugo’s arm had flung out at the last sentence, and they shook as Fugo’s chest heaved. His eyes were wide, staring imploringly at Narancia.

Narancia, on the other hand, had no idea what to do. Why did Fugo say that Narancia ‘had’ to have realized… whatever Fugo was feeling? It was nice to know that Fugo liked him, though. To have such a smart, cool, stylish, and attractive guy care about Narancia more than anyone else—that was pretty nice. Narancia smirked, feeling pretty smug. Still though! Fugo was probably waiting for a response! And Narancia didn’t know what to say!

“Ah, wow Fugo! That’s pretty good to hear! Uh.” Fugo’s eyes narrowed at Narancia’s lackluster response. That jerk, making such an eloquent speech just to make Narancia seem stupider. “I care about you too! Ah, don’t worry! I, ehm, I didn’t know that you liked me so much! Uh. It is really nice to hear though. I think you’re my favorite person too, if that’s what you were saying.”

Narancia nervously picked up some ravioli with his hand and munched on it. Cold ravioli… not so good.

Fugo let out a muffled yell, before physically taking the ravioli out of Narancia's hand. “Narancia! Stop eating fucking cold ravioli! I—I’m trying to tell you that I have a crush on you and you’re eating cold pasta!” 

Someone in the crowd gasped, another one groaning mama mia. “Uh.. we can surely find a microwave somewhere nearby…”

Wait!

“Fugo! You have a crush on me?!” Now Naracia was the one gasping. How dramatic! To think that Fugo of all people would have a crush on Narancia! Wow… Narancia really had some understated charm or something to get a guy like Fugo.

Fugo on the other hand was turning bright red, before spinning on his heel and running down the street, still carrying Narancia’s ravioli.

“Geez! Fugo, stop running!” Narancia took off after Fugo, before tripping and falling flat on his face.

“Did you accidentally develop dementia or something? Bruno’s still waiting for you losers.” Narancia gulped and looked up at Abbacchio, whose foot was still leaned out, preparing to trip more innocent mafiosos.

“Ah… Abbacchio. Uh, sorry!! We were heading right there, don’t worry!” Naracia rushed to find an excuse for Abbacchio not to toss him in a fountain. Instead, Abbacchio’s lips curled down.

“Oh really? Then why did I hear you dimwits shouting in the middle of the road about having crushes?”

Shit . I’m totally gonna get tossed in a fountain .

“That was all Fugo! I didn’t say anything about that!” Narancia squeezed his eyes shut in fear and anticipation on being tossed over Abbacchio’s back as he went to find the nearest fountain.

Instead, when he opened his eyes a crack, he saw Abbacchio gazing down with a smirk on his face and one immaculate eyebrow raised. 

“Oh? So you don’t have a crush on Fugo?” Abbacchio didn’t really give Narancia time to answer— as if he could answer such a question! --as he dragged Narancia up from his cowardly crouch and stalked to where Buccellati presumably was waiting for them. “Whatever. Fugo’s a responsible guy, so you can answer him yourself when he gets to the meeting spot.”

Naracia wailed.

Chapter Text

Narancia was still confused.

In the five minutes it took for Abbacchio to drag Narancia to the meeting spot, he hadn’t gained a single clue as to if he had a crush.

And in the additional ten minutes it took for Fugo to arrive from wherever he ran off to, Narancia had only gotten more miserable.

Fugo took one look at him and immediately turned red and glanced away. He was frowning.

Ugh. Narancia almost wished to be working on division right now, compared to this turmoil. Almost.

He really needed to get to a library or something and get onto Yahoo. How did you know if you had a crush on someone?? Ah… if only he could ask Fugo. Buccellati would probably know. But mama mia there was no way that Narancia could brave the questions that Buccellati would ask. ‘Who is it?’ ‘Do you want to go on a date with them?’ AHH!!! Just thinking about it made Narancia shiver.

Maybe Abbacchio—actually, no. There was no way that Leone ‘I care more about my lipstick than sick orphans’ Abbacchio would be able to explain what a crush was to Narancia.

Mista? Yeah right. Giorno? That would be more terrifying than facing the Boss head on! 

It looked like the only option was Trish. Which Narancia probably should’ve thought of in the first place! Trish was great! And girls read much more romance novels than boys—so Trish should be perfect! Though… he couldn’t really imagine Trish having a crush on anyone… but no matter! Trish was skilled in multiple ways, she surely would be able to help her bro out!

Speaking of, she was currently sitting on a chair (that seemed like it might have been stolen from some fancy lounge… gosh it looked comfortable…) next to Buccellati. Yeep! Narancia definitely had to get Trish away from Buccellati’s gossip-hungry ears.

Narancia casually side-stepped closer to where Trish was while Buccellati gave some important speech. 

“—Cacciatorini Linguine is an ex-informat of the Execution Squad, who has recently been spotted in several hotels we stayed at in the past week. Most likely, she is—”

Narancia kicked Trish’s chair lightly, earning him a venomous glare he definitely didn’t deserve! Trish side eyed him as Narancia attempted to communicate via eyebrows ‘ I really need some advice specifically from you but it’s also a secret so can you move away from Buccellati while I rant to you?’

Trish seemed to understand, nodding subtly before refocusing on Buccellati.

“—Mista and Abbacchio to investigate what she was doing at the hotels, and Fugo and Giorno to retrace her steps during the past 24 hours. Narancia—”

“Buccellati, I was thinking that Narancia and I could stalk the harbor? That is where she was last seen and Aeroplane would be great for the environment,” Trish quickly cut in. Buccellati nodded, before clapping and dispersing everyone. Trish really was reliable!

Once they had gotten a few streets off from the rest of the group, Trish turned to Narancia with a raised eyebrow. “Narancia, you better have some good reason to make me do this. Buccellati was gonna let me go shopping, you know!”

“Ah, I’m sorry Trish! I really would have wanted to go shopping with you…” Narancia fidgeted. “The thing is—how do you know if you have a crush on someone?!”

Trish’s mouth fell open. “You have a crush?! Narancia, you really need to make sure whoever this is is responsible enough. You almost got pickpocketed by a tourist scammer the other day!”

Narancia elected to ignore the last half of what Trish said. “I didn’t tell you I had a crush though! I just want to know how to tell if the feelings are a crush or not!”

“If you keep thinking about these feelings so much, then it’s probably a crush,” Trish deadpanned, before continuing on to the beach.

The wind whistled in Narancia’s eyes as he stood still, stunned. Well, it looked like he had a crush on Fugo! Crushes were good, so congratulations to himself!

—

After scouting the beach and harbor area with Aeroplane, Narancia found nothing. Which was kind of good, but also kind of bad because that meant he would have to wait longer to fight this Cacciatorini lady.

But also it gave more time for Trish to tease him about his crush. Why did he think asking Trish was a good idea, again? Narancia clearly was possessed at the time to mistake this devil for an angel. 

“Hee hee, Narancia, your crush is Fugo!” Trish gleefully said this as if it was her first time guessing. It was not. She had figured it out an hour ago.

“Narancia, when you guys get married you totally need to have orange pudding as your wedding dessert!”

“Narancia, is the reason you’re so bad at math when Fugo’s teaching you because you’re entraptured by his face?”

“Narancia, you and Fugo are such a cute couple with your matching holes in your clothes!”

“Narancia, did you know I once found a thong in Fugo’s clothing pile?”

At this Narancia found himself throwing himself into the ocean.

—

Trish had finally let up once she fished Narancia out of the ocean and started walking back with him to their group’s hotel. But she still smirked when she saw Fugo standing stiffly outside the hotel. She poked Narancia with his finger, and wiggled her eyebrows, before hurrying into the lobby.

Narancia shifted his weight from one foot to the other, listening to the horrible squishing sound of wet socks in wet shoes. Fugo clenched his fists repeatedly.

“Fugo—” “Narancia—” They spoke at the same time, before halting.

Fugo started again. “I just wanted to say that… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything… and also I’m sorry but I threw that cold ravioli in the trash… but mostly I’m sorry and please forget everything I said.”

Narancia was a little angry that Fugo threw his ravioli in the trash, but he felt quite sad to see this pitiful display from the normally prideful Fugo. Also he felt a little smug that he had such power over Fugo. Next time Fugo tried to teach his long division, he would just—do something and make Fugo regret it!

“I won’t forget it though!” Narancia rushed to say. “I really like that you have a crush on me!”

Fugo glowered in embarrassment. 

“Because I also have a crush on you!”

Fugo slapped Naracia in the face. “Shut up!” He yelled.

Narancia paused, confused yet again. “Do you not want me to have a crush on you?” Fugo was staring at his still raised palm. “You can slap me again, you know. I don’t really care.”

“Shut up! You should care if I slap you!” Fugo twitched as if he was going to slap Narancia again, but held himself back. “And I do want you to have a crush on me! But you don’t!”

“I do!”

“You don’t!”

“I do!”

“You don— mmph!” Fugo glared at Narancia as Narancia squished his cheeks together.

“Pannacotta Fugo you are an ugly bastard! But I really like you! And I maybe want to marry you! So accept my crush! Because you’re really gorgeous and cool and I want you to be my boyfriend arm-candy!” Narancia trailed off when he couldn’t think of anything else to say, simply staring into Fugo’s eyes.

Fugo wrenched his face from Narancia’s grasp. “You want me to be your arm-candy! As if! You’ll be my trophy husband, more like!”

Narancia just grinned. “I accept! You can be my boyfriend arm-candy, and I’ll be your trophy husband!”

Fugo rolled his eyes, before roughly grabbing onto Narancia’s hand, and pulling him inside the hotel.

“You better make that a promise,” he muttered as he dragged Narancia up the stairs, Narancia still smelling of salt water.

Narancia smiled brightly. His future had never looked so wonderful to him.